


Poison Flowers

by LilacCities



Category: The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Age of Resistance - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Politics, Arranged Marriage, Brea x Rek'yr, Clever Brea, Culture Shock, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fake Marriage, Forced Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Marriage of Convenience, Political Marriage, Slow Build, Slow Burn, The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance - Freeform, The dark crystal - Freeform, brea - Freeform, no skeksis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25278040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacCities/pseuds/LilacCities
Summary: With ever-growing tensions between the clans, All-Maudra Mayrin is forced to engage her youngest daughter Brea to a young Dousan man in order to secure the clan alliances. Brea couldn't be more distraught and Rek'yr couldn't be more conflicted. With the growing hostility between the Vapra and the Dousan, Brea must learn to make peace with her new husband, for there is a plot brewing just underneath their noses. One that could shatter the fragile balance of the clans as they know it.
Relationships: Brea/Rek'yr (Dark Crystal)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

There was no better place in the world than the library, it was all the little things that made it so perfect. It was the sound of pages falling between her fingers, the way light cut through the glass, the smell of old books and ink, it was the way her pen felt in her hand. Brea was always happiest when she was at her desk, in the library, scribbling notes and drawings in her journal. Everything seemed to still when she sat there; the world held its breath and she could exist by herself for a while. No expectations or courtly duties to get in her way. Something about all the pampered court women, twittering around Brea and begging for her or her mother’s favor make her skin crawl. 

“Back again, Princess?” The Librarian smiled warmly, setting down a stack of books as she slid into her usual seat.

She nodded. “Yes, I had some spare time today, and wanted to come back to resume my research.” 

“What will it be today? Durken’s Deliriums? Tales of Thra Past? Vapra Law and Hierarchies?” He was already thumbing through a few of her more favored tomes, ones that he kept in their own pile just for her. 

“No, I want to look at something different today. Do you have anything on the Grottan? Oh! Or Mother Aughra?” Brea was already screwing the caps off ink vials and opening her journal. “I want something I haven’t read before.” 

The Librarian shook his head, trying to hide a smile, as he disappeared behind a wall of papers. She could already hear him selecting books and pulling essays out of his personal stacks. “I have a few things here. Some essays on the Sifa, two travel journals on the Stonewood and Spriton, one tale of the founding of the Grottan clan, four books on the ecology of the Crystal Desert, and-" 

“Ecology, please!” Brea’s ears perked up. “It might work with my notes on mountain flowers.” She took a moment to admire her sketches of some of the flowers that grew next to her window at the Citadel. She’d even managed to paste dried flowers next to her sketches. It had taken her an entire weekend to get the curve of the petals just right, especially since she drew with ink and not any kind of graphite. Of course, graphite was always available to her, but she preferred the permanence of ink, seeing as graphite had an unfortunate habit of smudging on the page.

The large books fell onto the desk in front of her, raising a cloud of dust with a massive slam. Her eyes lit up as she nearly threw open the first cover. In less than a second, her eyes were scanning the page and scribbling notes in her journal. Despite the hours and hours of sitting with a tutor who instructed her carefully on handwriting, it was only perfect when she really wanted to pay attention. There was no time to ponder the curvature of her letters when she was in the throes of scholarly learning. “Is there anything else I can get you, Princess?” The Librarian’s question hung in the air without answer; Brea was too busy carefully sketching the curves of what would eventually become a patch of gobbles. He sighed and, shaking his head again, shuffled away to organize another corner of his labyrinth. 

The world stopped spinning and the suns stopped moving. There was nothing else in existence except for Brea and her books. She ran her fingers over the dried ink of the book, carefully feeling the small indents that the pen had made in the page. Wondering about the gelfling who had spent countless hours pouring their observations into the written word, she copied down a few of the phrases and hummed a little nonsense song to herself. The library felt warm and cozy, and she loved it that way. In her opinion, there was nothing worse than a place devoid of books or other passionate clutter. 

Of course, all good things must come to an end. The atmosphere of her work was interrupted by the feeling of a hand on her shoulder. “Sister, I need to talk to you.” It was Tavra, sent to fetch her younger sister yet again from the library. Brea groaned and turned to face her, exaggerating her facial expressions just so Tavra knew what an unwelcome intrusion this was. “It’s about the meetings tomorrow.” 

“I know about them already.” Brea sighed and shifted back to her book, already trying to push her sister away. “Mother said I needed to be there and that it was important. Isn’t that all?” 

“Not exactly.” Tavra located a stool and, after carefully moving the books that rested there, sat next to Brea. “Seladon said that-” Tavra stopped. Any request that came from Seladon would surely sit poorly with Brea. She corrected herself. “We would like it if you came home early today. To discuss something important.”

“Everything is important with you three.” Brea stiffened. Conversations between her and the rest of the royal family were becoming increasingly tenser and tenser. “Can’t you and Seladon take care of it? You always do anyways.” 

“No, it’s different this time.” Tavra’s posture stiffened as she gently pulled Brea’s hands away from the desk. “We need you to help us.” 

The phrase seemed to shoot straight into Brea’s heart. Her eyes went a little wide and her expression lightened. “You need me to help you?” She was amazed, it was always Seladon and Tavra that were helping, never her. “This isn’t like the time you told me I was needed and the Seladon took over? Right?” 

“No, it’s nothing like that.” Tavra forced herself to crack a smile as she stood. “It’s something that only you can do for us. Come on, why don’t we go home, we can talk about it there.” 

*** 

There was no better place in the world than Bennu’s back, it was all the little things that made it so perfect. It was in the way the wind blew through his hair, the way the desert’s heat felt on his cheeks, the rough texture of Bennu’s hide, his crew moving wordlessly and seamlessly behind him, and how the crystals dotting the desert sand seemed to glow in the light of the suns. Rek’yr was always at his happiest when he was sitting on top of Bennu, gently urging her one way or the other, consulting the single map he kept in his pocket. The only thing that could make the flight any better would be if he was given a night assignment. He loved flying at night; it gave him moments to mark different constellations and sketch designs for his next tattoo. He expected to be awarded a new one soon and he wanted to be ready with a perfect design. Everything was moving in harmony when he was travelling. Everything was as it should be. There was nothing worse than political assignments, sitting in a stuffy old tent with the other sandmasters and Maudra Seethi, discussing trade and debating spiritual philosophy until the inevitable feast, which would always be full of gelfling vying for new trade assignments and personal favors. Being a sandmaster was a rare honor, but it was not without its setbacks. 

“We’re here.” The words came from his crewmember, Dylee, pushing her blue braids behind her shoulders while she prepared for landing. “Are you ready?” 

Rek’yr shrugged. Was he ever truly ready for returning to the Wellspring? It was his home and birthplace, where his maudra and future wife would live. It was the source of life for his people; the only place they could find water and grow their crops. It was the hub of all their travel assignments and politics. Everything spread outwards from the Wellspring. However, it was also the meeting place of every other gelfling in his clan. It felt crowded, cluttered, too lived in. It was too easy to get lost in a market crowd and easier still to lose favor with those who mattered. It took years of careful planning to even meet Maudra Seethi, let alone demonstrate ample knowledge in general sciences, clan tradition, and laws to earn his title of Sandmaster of the Southern Xeric. The Southern Xeric was incredibly lucrative, housing one of the main hunting routes and a meeting point shown to very few members outside the clan. The sheer number of gelfling vying to get on his crew was staggering at best. 

The best part of his title was freedom. He could travel the Xeric as he liked, lead a hunting team of his own, and handle trade. It felt good to be in control and lead a group of trusted individuals. It made his chest swell with pride to have sway in the decisions that his clan made. Before he had made his way onto a crew, he’d been trapped at the Wellspring, doomed to be a part of the swaying masses that watched and waited for news of what came beyond their homes. It was his own efforts and dedication that made him what he was, unheard of at such a young age.

He leaned down, whispering in Bennu’s ears and guiding her gently downwards. Landing was tricky business; too far one way and the animal might get pulled into the shifting sand, too far another way and you might knock down a few tents. Fortunately, Rek’yr studied under one of the best sandmasters of his time. It took about five minutes to keep Bennu calm as the gelfling below them roped her down, but soon Rek’yr and his crew began unloading their hunting spoils. 

Surely, there was nothing better than this. The stares of admiration and envy and the way he was able to contribute to his clan. He could feed them and protect their location. It was a privilege. He became lost in the moment, in the gentle repetition of unloading and handing off whatever he was holding to the next gelfling. It felt like he was sliding into place. He hummed a little as he did, letting the simple pleasure of the moment take him away. 

His bliss was momentarily interrupted by a rough hand pushing on his shoulder. “Rek’yr,” the voice was harsh, rough. “Maudra Seethi wants to see you.” It was Unda, leader of the Southwestern Xeric.

“Why is that?” Rek’yr handed off another package of hides. “She usually waits until the returning feast to speak with me.” 

“It’s not my place to know.” Unda sneered, his scarred upper lip curving in irritation. “It’d be best if you went now, I could take your place here.” Without waiting for a response, Unda shoved Rek’yr out of his place and began unloading Rek’yr’s hunting prizes. 

“Of course,” Rek’yr gave him an exaggerated bow. He would show respect, but only where it was due. Unda had been trying for years to switch Xerics with Rek’yr, trying everything he could to get rid of the young sandmaster. It made for a few very uncomfortable feasts when they sat together. As Rek’yr went to leave, he pushed Unda’s shoulder, leaning in close to whisper in his ear. “This is my mount and my crew. Don’t take what you haven’t earned. Thieves have dirty hands and even dirtier hearts.” His whisper came out as more of a soft snarl. Rek’yr pushed through the crowd and made his way to the massive center tent, towards his maudra.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m not doing it!” Brea stormed out of her mother’s room, pushing the glass door with such ferocity that she almost dented the hinges. Tavra could hear Brea’s footsteps as she stomped away and the sound of the door to her private quarters slamming shut. 

A tense moment of silence took over the room. Seladon pursed her lips and exhaled loudly, failing to hide her irritation. Mayrin stayed seated at her vanity, concealing whatever storm of emotions she was holding inside with a diplomatic mask. It was Tavra that broke the silence. “I told you she wouldn’t agree to this.” She sighed and leaned against the wall, rubbing her eyes. “I told both of you.” 

“Whether she agrees or not, it doesn’t matter anymore.” Seladon huffed. “It isn’t her decision.” 

“It is!” Tavra opened her eyes. It was rare for her and Seladon to face-off like this, and she met the occasion with the same ferocity with which she disciplined her paladins. “You should have consulted her beforehand. You should have found alternatives!” 

“There are none!” Seladon slapped a hand to their mother’s vanity table. “They have demands and requests; I met them! They wanted insurance; I gave it!”

“Brea is not insurance, Seladon!” Tavra’s voice rose to a full-fledged shout. “She’s your little sister!”

“Girls, please!” Maudra Mayrin finally spoke, her voice pulling both Seladon and Tavra out of their anger. “Both of you, sit down. Tavra, this was my decision as much as it was Seladon’s; do not insult me by assuming I would not read proposals involving my own daughters.” Seladon breathed a sigh of relief as she sunk back into the chair next to her mother. “Is it the most optimal deal? No. Is it the one that brings about the most peace? Yes. Seethi has been pushing this issue for many years now; it is only natural that it would come to this.” 

“But Brea- “ 

“Is a princess!” Mayrin’s voice snapped. “It is her duty to act like one! If the Dousan pull out of the clan alliance, then everything could fall apart. Do you understand that?” 

“No, I don’t!” Tavra tried her best to keep her temper under control, but that was proving to be more difficult than she had originally anticipated. “You’re sacrificing your own daughter for what? A moment of peace?”

Seladon was the one who spoke now. “If one clan can leave, what about the others? The rest could leave, and we would all be divided. If we can’t find some way to keep the Dousan in line, it could mean a political struggle that we have never seen before. It could even mean war.” Her sharp gaze took in Tavra with a critical eye. “And I assume that you wouldn’t be so willing to offer yourself up to them…given your other engagements with keeping the Sifa in line at the ports.” Tavra had to admit, Seladon was brilliant. Sneaky and conniving and just a little too vindictive for her own good, but brilliant. It had been two unum since Seladon had caught Tavra in bed with her Sifan companion. Tavra knew that Seladon hadn’t told their mother quite yet, but she hadn’t expected it to be used against her like this. 

Mayrin shot Seladon an inquisitive look but didn’t push the issue any further. Tavra’s stomach bound up in knots; there was nothing more she could do for Brea. If she volunteered herself to the Dousan, there would be no one to lead the paladins. Worse still, what would happen to Onica? With Seladon clearly aware of her and Tavra’s relationship, there was no way for her to ensure Onica’s safety without Tavra physically there to protect her. Brea was the safest and smartest option and, as must as Tavra didn’t want to admit it, Brea had the least in terms of court responsibilities. She was a scholar, not a politician or military strategist. What did she do that the court needed? Nothing, really. 

“Go to her, if you’re so concerned!” Seladon stood again, making her way to the door. “Congratulate her.” She glanced over her shoulder and Tavra swore that the room dropped a few degrees in temperature. “After all, being the first of us to get married is worth something, isn’t it? It’s an honor, not a death sentence. Now, if you will excuse me Mother, I have a trade proposal from the Spriton that I would like to review.” With that, she stomped off. 

Mayrin sighed heavily, putting her face in her hands. “This can’t be happening.” Tavra could hardly believe her ears. She crossed to Seladon’s chair, taking her mother’s soft hands in her own calloused ones. 

“Mother, surely there is something that you can do?” Tavra leaned forward, forcing her mother to meet her eyes. “You’re the All-Maudra. There must be other solutions.” 

Wordlessly, Mayrin produced a letter from one of her many hidden pockets and passed it to Tavra. The paper was dark and heavy with worn edges, the writing was in a dark red ink probably made from crushed berries of some kind. 

Loving All-Maudra Mayrin,  
It is with a heavy heart that I write to you again. It appears my first few letters have either been lost or you refuse to answer them. In any event, I pray that this one finds you safely and that you deem it fit to reply.  
As you are aware, several trading routes connecting our Wellspring to those of the Sifa and Vapra have been used against our wishes. This is a direct violation of the Treaty of the Dousan, signed all those trine ago. In addition, several of my scouts have reported that members of your own clan have tried to engage in trade with us, despite our agreements to only trade during specific times of the year. Again, this is a direct violation of the treaty my grandmother signed. While I understand the desire to increase clan relations, you must understand and respect our customs and tendency towards secrecy. In addition, I have heard from my personal scouts that there are non-Dousan loitering around the borders of the sand deserts, trying to solicit my Xeric leaders for information on how to reach my Wellspring. Yet another violation, one that I regard with intense loathing and even more intense caution.  
This is not the first time that these trade agreements have been broken and It saddens me to assume it will not be the last. For these reasons, I am submitting my formal secession from the Seven Clan Alliance. That is, unless my requests are met.  
All trade with the Vapra will be restricted to the first week of the first unum of the year, nothing more and nothing less. All trade routes will be kept secret and those that have been discovered will be changed and punished appropriately. The Dousan will henceforth have the right to keep our trade and movement routes in complete secrecy, even from you. You will punish those responsible for finding and disclosing our meeting points to the fullest extent of the highest court, yours. And, for insurance that these demands are met and maintained to the best of your responsibility, we happily offer one of our own for the hand of your youngest daughter.  
It has come to our attention that you have yet to respond to any clan requests of marriage for your second youngest, Katavra, citing that she is militaristically vital and is bound by the rule of Clan Seconds to marry within her own clan. As Brea is the third daughter, she is held to no such standard. 

Tavra stopped reading. “The rule of Clan Seconds?” 

“It’s an old rule, from when my great-grandmother was a child. When all those inter-clan children were born. It was created to keep borders separated; it’s hardly ever enforced anymore.” Mayrin sighed and began to pace the room. “The eldest two sons and daughters of anyone clan cannot marry outside of it. It made immigration and marrying out of clans much more difficult.” 

“I’ve never heard of it.” 

“Like I said, it’s hardly enforced anymore. Once the number of inter-clan children finally went down no one needed it.” Mayrin grimaced. “I was hardly going to enforce it. But once letters came in, asking for your hand in marriage in order to strengthen clan relations, I cited the rule of Clan Seconds. No one seemed to care! But once Brea was formally introduced to the public and came of age, I could no longer protect her with the rule. I’ve received letters from the Dousan in the past, but I didn’t think they would go so far as to ask her in exchange for honoring the treaty.” Mayrin stopped to bite her nails and stare out of the window. “Seladon and I have been looking for answers for almost two weeks now, there’s nothing we can do.” Tavra hummed and continued to read the letter. 

I, a few of my attendants, guards, and my newly adopted son will be traveling to Ha’rar to receive your answer in person. I only intend for this to end peacefully but, if you venture to harm me or my people, we will respond accordingly.  
Your humble and eternal servant,  
Maudra Seethi, Leader of the Dousan and Protector of the Wellspring

“Well, that’s one way to end a letter.” Tavra fought the urge to tear the letter apart and instead set it on the vanity table. “So, there’s nothing we can do?” 

“I’m afraid she has us cornered. There is a precedent for the royalty of other clans marrying out in order the strengthen clan bonds; the Spriton seem to always have a cousin in every clan. Maudra Fara just recently married out one of her best guards to a Grottan girl, Deethra, I believe.” 

“There’s a difference between a Stonewood guard and a Vapran princess, Mother. Everyone knows that.” Tavra could feel the frustration leaking out of her pores and into her words. 

“Go talk to her, Tavra. Please? You are the one she will listen to. Just convince her to do this.” Mayrin concealed her worried face behind her usual mask of stern diplomacy. “The fate of the clans rests on her actions. It is for the good of the clans.” 

“Mother, you can’t be serious! You can’t expect me to- “ 

“Katavra, please.” Mayrin quickly pulled her daughter into a hug with a tight squeeze. “Do this for me. For your clan. It’s important.” 

And thus, Tavra found herself pushing open the door to Brea’s private rooms. She had three of them in all; they were fairly small compared to Tavra’s five, Seladon’s six, and Mayrin’s eight. Brea’s private rooms were made of a parlor, a bedroom, and a private bathroom; all of which were very spacious and decorated with dried flowers and stained glass. Tavra had to admit, she liked Brea’s rooms, they suited her. She could see untouched leather-bound tomes titled “Etiquette for Young Ladies”, “Proper Courtroom Decorum”, “Rules and Responsibilities of the Third Princess”, and “Princess Posture and Proper Propriety.” She’d never seen untouched books in Brea’s vicinity before, but the thick layers of dust spoke to Brea’s clear hatred of the tomes. 

Tavra knelt and selected one, pushing the dust off the cover as best she could. “You know, reading a book specifically written for you might be a good idea.” It was Rules and Responsibilities of the Third Princess, something Mayrin had proudly presented to Brea on the night of her thirteenth birthday, to “prepare her for coming of age” in five years. Brea thanked her mother, but it was clear that the present was her least favorite of the bunch. 

“I’ve never wanted to read it.” Brea’s voice floated into the parlor from the bedroom. Tavra found her curled up in her massive bed, reading a weathered book, her face still twisted in disgust. 

“You? Not wanting to read a book? You’re joking.” Tavra smiled gently and sat at the foot of the bed, keeping a safe distance to doge any potential book-throwing. “It might be worth a look.” 

“What do you want?” Brea’s book snapped shut and she straightened her posture, her ears pushing uncharacteristically downward. “Did Mother send you here?” 

Tavra’s face fell awkwardly. “I won’t say that she didn’t have a hand in it. I was going to come in anyway.” She set the rule book gently on the floor and pushed herself a bit closer. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Brea pushed herself out of the bed and over to her dresser. “It won’t be happening.” 

“Brea,” Tavra had the startling realization that she sounded almost exactly like her mother, the thought was unsettling at best. “Brea,” she tried again, modifying her tone. “The meetings are tomorrow; you could at least meet the young man first before making your decision. He could be,” she paused, what kind of gelfling was Brea interested in? “He could be very handsome, maybe he owns his own library!” 

“A Dousan? Owning a library?” Brea was already behind a privacy screen, pulling on her nightclothes, hoping her tone and bed preparations would be enough to push her sister away. “Don’t make me laugh.” 

“Well, I am the funny one.” Tavra sighed. “Look, could you just think about it for more than one second? It’s something only you could do!” 

“Oh, really?” Brea stormed out from behind the screen, now in a floor-length nightgown, tearing at her braids. “Send me off to the middle of nowhere with a man none of us know with no way of getting me home? Oh! How privileged I am to be given this rare and bountiful opportunity!” Brea’s voice was dripping with acid as she attacked her hair with a brush. “Please, Mother is just sending me off to make things easy. I’m sure there are hundreds of other ways to resolve this and she just chose the path of least resistance.” 

“Please, just stop and think for a moment.” Tavra stood and made her way over to Brea, removing the hairbrush from her hands. “Think about what Mother had told you. That the Dousan were threatening to pull out of the alliance, it could leave the rest of us in a very fragile position.” Tavra started working out some of the more threatening looking knots on Brea’s head. “It’d be dangerous for the rest of us, what if the other clans wanted to leave the alliance as well? Where would we draw the borders? Brea, we could be risking a war.” Brea, for once, had no response. “You don’t even have to love him. Take a lover, if you want, you would be very prized, and they would have to treat you well.” 

“They won’t have any books there.” Tavra could feel Brea cracking. It wasn’t often Brea was needed for something; she would pounce on any opportunity to prove her worth compared to her sisters. Tavra’s gut tied in knots. Manipulating her sister made her feel twisted. Was this how Seladon felt? 

“You can pack some,” Tavra offered. “I’ll help you. And you’ll always be able to write to us. And if anything goes wrong, we can arrange for you to be brought home and make it so it never happened.” She knelt next to her sister, putting the brush down on a nearby vanity table, and took Brea’s hands. “Please, Brea, I need you to consider this seriously. Not as a gelfling; as a princess.” 

Tavra’s heart almost shattered into millions of pieces as Brea’s face fell. She’d never seen her younger sister look so utterly defeated, nodding her head.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Rek’yr sputtered out, checking his posture for what felt like the hundredth time. He never truly felt comfortable in his maudra’s tents, large and luxurious and always smelling of incense. He much preferred the cozy bachelor tents he’d pitched for himself, one large room with an open oven in the center with colorful plush pillows scattered about and thick blue and yellow carpets hanging from the walls. He was rather proud of it if he was honest. But Maudra Seethi’s tents were made up of several, large square tents connected. Each tent making a different room. This one was always kept very dark, red tapestries with depictions of star charts and incense rituals decorated the walls. The kneeling pillows were all taken by the maudra and her ladies, all sitting somberly and quietly with their hands folded politely in their lap. 

“What confuses you?” Maudra Seethi tilted her head, allowing one of the diamonds sewn into her headdress to fall over her forehead, as if to flaunt its place. “You are the youngest and most handsome of my Xeric leaders, I’d rather have you as a son out of all of the boys. There fact that you lack parents and other relatives makes this process fairly painless for both of us.” Her tone was even and light, completely detached from the pure shock on Rek’yr’s face. 

“But she’s Vapran!” Rek’yr resisted the urge to leap off his kneeling cushion. “It is forbidden to marry outside of the clan!” 

“Without my express consent, yes. Given the current situation with the Vaprans I’m willing to forgive it this time. Besides, rumor has it that she is very pretty.” Seethi leaned forward, gently patting his knee. Despite the kind action, he could detect a certain stealth behind her eyes. The same kind sand-slinkers wear before wrapping themselves around unsuspecting prey. “Think about it, you’ll have far more status as my son then just as the leader of the Southern Xeric. You’ll be given more tents, ones to attach to your current one, of course. Riches afforded to you by your new birthright! You’ll have a beautiful wife, one that I’ve heard is quite fertile if her mother is anything to judge from.” Seethi’s hands withdrew back to her lap, closing her eyes and smiling. “I can’t see what you stand to lose from this arrangement. You made it clear to me you weren’t looking for a wife yet, at least in our clan, I can understand if you are more . . . inspired by other ladies.” 

Rek’yr bit the inside of his cheek and clenched his fists. “But if I don’t love her?” 

“You will, in time. Make her love you and the rest is sure to follow.” Seethi turned to one of her ladies who produced a paper, thick and heavy with the scent of blackberry ink. 

“Make her love me?” He could hardly keep the distaste out of the phrase. “You aren’t suggesting I – “ 

“Rek’yr!” Seethi snapped at him. “How dare you assume I would ask something even akin to that disgusting act from one of my own.” Her voice dropped dangerously low. “Don’t you ever venture to assume something like that of me again.” She took a breath and resumed her previous, detached, tone. “You’re a handsome young man, clever, and fairly talented in the more romantic aspects of our culture. I’ve heard several ladies here mark on their excitement to see your performances upon returning to us.” Rek’yr shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “But, as my son, you would be exempt from such displays.” 

“I don’t want to offend you, that isn’t my ambition or desire.” Rek’yr chose his words very carefully. “But to marry a girl I don’t know, one that might not desire me, it burdens my heart. It frightens me in ways I am not afraid to admit.” 

“Fear is only hidden desire.” Seethi slid her paper over to him. “Just sign this and it will all be done with.” 

“I can’t read it, Maudra.” He could feel his cheeks heating under his tattoos. Literacy was incredibly rare in the Dousan clan, but a skill he’d desired for a very long time. “If you would be so kind as to explain it to me?” 

“It’s an adoption document, one we will present to the All-Maudra in her court tomorrow.” She gently tapped the bottom of the page. “It is well known I’ve yet to produce a son of my own, so I want to assure them of your legitimacy. As my first son, it gives their daughter a newer position here, something akin to my first daughter. All the privilege and none of the responsibility, something I’m sure she’s well-adjusted to already at her own court.” 

“I cannot write my name.” 

Seethi produced a pin from her headdress and handed it to him. “Sign it irrefutably and I will know.” 

Rek’yr’s fingers trembled as he took the pin from his maudra. He knew that she wasn’t requesting his sign, it was an order. His gut twisted into shapes he never knew existed as he held the point up to his finger. Why was he so conflicted? He did not have to love her, surely he could take a lover if his affections for the Vapran girl didn’t come forward. New tents, finer clothes, status, power, the ability to affect change in his own clan, wasn’t this everything he ever wanted? Everything he struggled for? It was a position any man would murder for, and Rek’yr was literally handed it. 

He took a breath, steeling his heart and building new walls around his mind. Love or not, this girl was a new advantage. Everything he wanted was just one pinprick away. Without a second thought, he pushed the pin into the pad of his thumb, letting the pink blood swell to the surface. He pushed his finger to the page and smeared the bottom, watching as it dried on the page. 

“Wonderful!” Seethi quickly seized the pin from him and pricked her own thumb, making a small print on the corner of the page. “And now that business is done,” she held up her hand and the lady on her left quickly blotted her finger with a small hankie. “I’ll make the formal announcement tonight as we welcome the traders back home. You may go.” Rek’yr stood and sank into a low bow before leaving. There was a small amount of pleasure in the back of his mind, his wedding would surely be a grand one, and his wife was going to be beautiful. No matter how much he thought of his new status it didn’t relieve the growing pressure in his chest. How was he supposed to make this girl love him?


	3. Chapter 3

Rek’yr tightened the cloak around his shoulders and tried his best not to shiver outwardly. He’d heard that the mountain air in Ha’rar was cold and thin, but this was getting ridiculous. Even inside the glassy walls of the Citadel, everything felt frigid and covered in layers of ice. He could practically feel the tips of his fingers frosting over as they fumbled with the buckles of his cloak. Surely, nothing could be worse than this; the overly crowded city of Ha’rar packed to full capacity, the stench of the landstriders he and his clansmen were forced to ride, the side-eyes and glares he’d received from the Vaprans in the streets. Glancing around him, he could tell the guards and escorts were also faring poorly with the weather. Several of them were shivering and one was trying to inconspicuously rub her hands together to warm them. The only member of the little group that didn’t seem to struggle with this quick change of climate was Maudra Seethi. 

She stood at the front of their band, Rek’yr to her right and slightly behind her while the remaining ten guards and attendants attempted a sort of uniform shape without looking too pitiful. The maudra stood tall, her gloved hands folded neatly in front of her now layered skirts. Seethi had insisted on layering skirt after heavy skirt and Rek’yr now understood why. While her hair was hidden in its traditional cover, there were several strings of pearls and jewels now adorning the usually simple headpiece. In fact, all the opulence the Wellspring could possibly offer was on full display, rare desert gems of every color were shimmering on her outer skirt and delicate glass beads were woven into her gloves. Every part of Maudra Seethi was glowing with pride and wealth. It was a powerful move, one designed to intimidate the All-Maudra and convince her that her daughter would be taken care of. A risky maneuver, but an impressively bold one all the same. 

They had been waiting in the throne room for what felt like an hour now, flanked by paladins who eyed them suspiciously. During this obviously intentional waiting period, they weren’t shown to any guest rooms or given any time to clean up, which Rek’yr would have appreciated. It would be harder to woo a pompous brat when he smelled like a landstrider and looking like he hadn’t slept in almost four days. His heart sank with every second that passed. He tried to drum up a little courage or grace for his situation but found his mind wandering to horrible places. The princess was Vapran, there was no denying that, so she was surely accustomed to a specific lifestyle; one filled with vapid beauty and bland court gossip. The third daughter had practically no responsibility; Maudra Seethi had informed him that the girl had no chance at the throne and had spent most of her days away from the Citadel and was never seen at important events.  
“When she came of age,” Seethi had said, “there was a fantastic ball held at the Citadel. One of the most luxurious events I had ever seen. When presented, she appeared wearing the most garish dress anyone could possibly stuff a girl into, and the sourest expression on her face.” At this, she began to shake her head. “Such an ungrateful child.” 

Becoming a prince was so easy, all it took was smudging his blood on some paper and promising to marry a spoiled princess. That promise was the thing that burdened him the most. It felt so inconsequential at the time, easy to sign his lineage over, but staring at the throne he realized just how permanent marriage really was. He knew the marriage vows he would give inside and out, but the line about souls entwining and the eternal bond started an endless repeating loop as the glass doors creaked open behind him. He had parroted the marriage vows enough that he could recite them in his sleep, even to the point where the line about souls entwining and the eternal bond had started looping endlessly in his dreams. Frantically, he mentally rehearsed the vows once more, hearing the glass doors creaking open behind him. 

If Seethi’s clothes were worn to make a statement, the All-Maudra and her daughter’s choices were screaming. The All-Maudra had draped herself in expensive light-blue silks that, once piled on and layered, hid her frame. The Living Crown was covered in a translucent veil with small unimoths stitched into the fabric. She looked regal and commanding, without needing a single gem or bead in her dress, making Seethi look cheap and callous for flaunting so much wealth. The All-Maudra didn’t even bother to acknowledge the Dousan as she slid into her throne, her eyes focused on the doors behind them, barely making a passing glare over the group. 

The eldest daughter was next. She chose robes very similar to her mother’s, pale blue silk that shifted with her every movement, making her look like she was wearing the sky as snow fell. With her ramrod posture and perfectly straight wings, the girl looked almost as regal as her mother. There was a certain kind of ice in her expression that made several members of the Dousan party falter and wince. This was softened, however, by the second daughter. She followed very close behind, holding the youngest’s hand. This middle girl, Rek’yr recalled her name was Tavra, wore simple and plain grey and blue military clothes. They were modest, following what seemed to be Vapran expectations, but Rek’yr could see her broad shoulders hidden under the fabric, no doubt courtesy of her paladin training. 

The youngest, his intended, was by far the most surprising. Covered head to toe in a light gray robe, he could barely make out the dainty white slippers she wore under the skirts. A veil was draped over her face, much like her mother, but this was thicker and Rek’yr struggled to make out any features beyond basic shapes. He could, however, see she displayed the same unimoths as the All-Maudra, embroidered into her veil with the tiniest iridescent jewels stitched into each wing. Every time she moved, the unimoths flickered like tiny stars blinking on a silver-gray sky. Each of the princesses wore a circlet on their brows, but the youngest deviated from her sisters in that hers was made of dark gold, making her stand out. Perhaps a mark of her engagement? He couldn’t quite tell. 

Maudra Seethi maintained her composure, but Rek’yr knew that she was on the brink of exploding with anger; he could see it in the way her hands trembled ever so slightly as she bowed. It was humiliating, to be so garish in front of a family that, in this moment, was clearly humbler than her. 

“My dearest Seethi,” Maudra Mayrin raised her chin and shot the Dousan a look that seemed to be a cross between tolerance and forced hospitality. “I see that you travelled safely.” 

“Of course, All-Maudra,” Seethi’s hands stopped trembling as she rose from her deep bow. “We’ve come quite a long way, but we all seem to be in one piece.” 

“How fortunate.” From the tone, Rek’yr didn’t think the All-Maudra considered it fortunate at all. “Were you kept waiting long?” 

“Oh no! Of course not, Maudra, it was a perfect amount of time to take in your wonderful city.” They both knew that Seethi hadn’t done much besides stand in the throne room, but Seethi knew her place, and wasn’t going to jeopardize the already tense arrangement. “I do love visiting here, as do my people.” The guards and escorts stopped rubbing their hands and tried to stand to attention. Rek’yr himself found it hard to maintain his usual calm demeanor in the face of such a powerful group of gelfling; he was practically choking on the tension. 

The All-Maudra shifted ever so slightly to raise her hand and gesture to Rek’yr. “And this, I am to believe, is your son?” His skin crawled as the older woman’s eyes raked his body. He wasn’t presentable and he knew it. He’d been travelling all day, using shortcuts through the desert and riding landstriders at full speed to reach Ha’rar. Maudra Seethi had refused to leave the Wellspring until the group absolutely had to, insisting that announcing his adoption to the clan was far more important than getting a head start on the travels. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair was in disarray, and he was positive that the only good thing about his appearance was his posture. Even the most handsome of gelfling, he reasoned, could look terrible after such a long period of travel. Certainly, no girl would be chomping at the bit to finalize an engagement with him, not like this. 

“Yes,” Seethi stepped forward and bowed her head ever so slightly, “you know that I have not been blessed with many children, let alone a son.” The All-Maudra nodded curtly. “Rek’yr is the youngest of my Xeric leaders, but by far the most talented and qualified.” Rek’yr tried to appear dignified, a task which was quickly proving itself to be nearly impossible given the circumstances. “He is a skilled hunter, well versed in my clan traditions, and one of the most talented navigators and traders my clan has had the pleasure of producing. It was only natural that I adopt him, after learning of his family’s untimely demise.” His family had been dead for ages now, lost to a hunting accident when he was barely old enough to toddle. He had to crawl and scrape his way to Seethi’s family tree, and here she was pretending like her heart was warmer than the ice outside on the streets He curbed the anger bubbling inside him and moved his eyes back to his intended. Was she shaking? 

“The documents?” The All-Maudra held out her hand, barely containing a glare. Rek’yr watched as the princesses took a collective breath as the realization hit him. They didn’t want this arrangement to go through. That’s why he would have to stay in the Citadel for so long; the royal family was going to search for any way to pull out of the marriage arrangement. His heart skipped a beat. If there was even the tiniest crack in Seethi’s plan, everything could slip away from him; clan position, prestige, the freedom being a child of the maudra could afford him, all of it would be pulled away from him just as quickly as it was given. He couldn’t allow that to happen. 

Seethi complied, pulling the rolled parchment from a concealed fold in her skirts and gently placing it in Mayrin’s hand. The All-Maudra unrolled it, carefully combing over the document, searching for any hint of illegitimacy. After a few minutes, she sighed very softly and handed it to her eldest daughter. “Seladon, look at the marks at the bottom.” The blood seals. Did that count as a legal signature? Could the All-Maudra nullify the adoption? Did she have that power? Rek’yr’s heart picked up pace and his knees began to shake ever so slightly. 

“A blood seal, Maudra.” The daughter, Seladon, cast a critical glance at the Dousan. “He can’t write, common for the Dousan.” Her voice was colder than any breeze he had felt outside. “It is legitimate.” The youngest daughter deflated under her layers of skirts and veils before snapping back to attention. 

“Now that we have verified the legitimacy of my son,” Seethi’s tone was starting to edge, “I do believe we have arrangements to discuss?” 

“Yes,” Mayrin nodded and waved her hand. “Seladon will attend as my heir, your son may do the same if you wish. Girls? Please go, prepare for dinner. Your attendants may leave as well, to their rooms.” Two paladins moved protectively around the two youngest princesses as they hurried out of the room. Did the youngest girl whisper something about literacy or was he just hearing things? The remaining, blue-robed guards gestured quickly with their hands out of the throne room and into the hallway.

“There will be no need, I am more than capable of arranging things for my son without his presence.” He still couldn’t adjust to Seethi referring to him as her child. “Go, all of you, prepare for supper and keep warm.” Rek’yr willed himself not to sprint out of the room. 

….

“He can’t even write!” Brea wrestled the veil from her head and threw it onto the bed. “He can’t write his own name!” She began to pull the layers of gray cloth from her body and arranging her hair away from the ensemble. It was Tavra’s idea to dress her so modestly that she couldn’t be seen, Brea’s reactions wouldn’t have to be as restrained as normal, something the entire royal family agreed would be a good plan given the circumstances. 

“I’ll admit, it doesn’t look good.” Tavra shifted uncomfortably, picking at the skin around her nails. She was sure they could find something wrong with the adoption paper; they needed to be so detailed and specific to be recognized in the Vapra Clan that Tavra was positive that at least one detail would be missing. She’d hedged almost all her bets on that paper being illegitimate, and now she was about to watch her younger sister be married to a complete stranger in a few days. 

“Look good!?” Brea could feel tears welling up in her eyes. “No! It doesn’t look good, Tavra!” She plopped herself down on the bed and began to wrench the slippers off. “He looks so – so barbaric!” 

“Brea,” Tavra tried to chide her sister, tried to think of anything to say that would soothe her, but she could feel Brea’s anger growing and Tavra couldn’t blame her. Brea wasn’t exactly excited at the prospect of her engagement, and she was beginning to realize that there was no way out of it. Against her will, she was going to be married to a man she’d never met. “Can I help you get ready for dinner?” 

Maybe it was the tone of Tavra’s voice, or her posture, or Brea realizing that she might not have as much time at home as she thought, but Brea nodded and slid off the last of the oversized gown. “Your dress for dinner looks beautiful.” Tavra glanced at the gown still hanging on Brea’s privacy screen. Like most of the clothes the royal family wore, the main skirt was blue, but the dress was dotted in pink embroidery and jewels. Brea gave a small grunt, presumably in agreement, as she sat at her vanity and began brushing out her long hair. 

Tavra sighed and gently took the brush from Brea’s hand and began to plait the bright, silvery hair. She wasn’t any good at the elaborate court hairstyles that the other ladies wore, but braids were essential to wear in battle; and as far as Tavra was concerned, Brea was marching into war. “He could be handsome.” She offered. 

“I suppose if he cleaned himself, he might.” Brea sniffed. She didn’t want to dislike him, but what she could see through the veil did not impress her. Even from the glances she could catch, she knew that if she were taken to the Wellspring, she would be the only one of her kind. Among those tattooed and painted gelfling, she would surely stand out. The thought of being away from home made her heart ache, but the potential isolation made it break. It was in this quiet moment that Brea felt something slip inside of her. “There’s no getting out of this, is there?” 

Tavra, never one to mince words, sighed as she finished her sister’s hair. “I don’t think so.” 

“Why did you and Seladon and Mother keep this from me?” Her voice began to shake ever so slightly. “Why couldn’t you all have told me?” 

“We didn’t think it would actually happen.” Tavra moved to the dress, pulling it from its hook and gesturing for Brea to move to dress. “Mother didn’t want you to worry and Seladon and I didn’t think they would threaten to pull out of the alliance.”

“So, what if they do?” Brea sniffed as the silk slid over her body. “They don’t live close enough to us to be a threat and they hardly do anything economically.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Tavra began tightly pulling the laces on the dress. “You’re clever, Brea, think big. This is more than just one clan. What message would the Dousan pulling out of the alliance send to the rest of them? What does that say about the power of the Vapra Clan?” 

Brea paused to think. “That they can leave at any time,” she concluded. “That they don’t have to stay united with us.” 

“And why would that be a problem?” 

Dread filled Brea’s chest. “We can’t stand on our own as a clan.” Brea whispered. “We need the trade agreements and the support.” Tavra hummed, prompting Brea to continue. “And if the Dousan leave, then any of them can leave.” Another hum. “And we can’t use war to keep the rest of the clans in the alliance because we don’t have enough soldiers to take on any clans that ally with the Dousan over us.” 

“What else is there, Brea? Think harder. If the Vaprans need the Dousan in the alliance and will do whatever we can to keep them, what does that mean?” 

“Unless we do whatever we can to keep the Dousan and the other clans in the alliance, we could go to war.” Her voice was quiet and solemn. She’d only read about war once, from a massive history book she’d found tucked away in the back of the library. Every clan standing on their own, fighting for territory and resources. The death toll alone was staggering, but the toll it took on Thra itself was catastrophic. The destruction of the environment for weapons and other resources aside, Thra couldn’t survive without the careful harmony of the gelfling. “If I don’t do this, the alliance could end, the clans would divide, and we could all go to war.”


	4. Chapter 4

Rek’yr didn’t exactly understand how one meal could end in such total devastation for his romantic prospects; yet here he was, his posture straighter than it had ever been and a very broody princess sitting across from him. Even with her face fixed in an angry stare at her plate, slicing forcefully into her helping of fish, she was magnificent. If it weren’t for her two older sisters freezing the room with their very presence, he might have felt more compelled to remark on the way her hair was braided or the way her dress fell over her shoulders. In fact, the elder princesses seemed to suck every word from his throat before he could bring them out with a simple glance. Three courses into the six-course evening and he’d barely said a word. Maudra Seethi cleared her throat, another attempt to create conversation where clearly none was to be had. 

“Dinner is absolutely wonderful tonight, is it not?” She chuckled awkwardly and kicked Rek’yr’s shin under the table. He could practically feel her begging him to say something, anything at all, that would thaw the permafrost of the dinner table. 

“Oh!” He cleared his throat for what felt like the millionth time that night, quickly glancing between his new fiancée, future mother-in-law, and recently adopted mother. “Of course! Your chefs have done an incredible job with the spices we have brought with us.” 

“That would explain why the food is so unpalatable,” Brea practically spat the words out as she pushed the now mauled fish around her plate. Seladon demurely cleared her throat and Brea wilted, adjusting her posture and dabbing her lips with her napkin. “Did I say that out loud? I apologize. I suppose I’m just not accustomed to such brazen flavors being put into my dinner without my consultation.” Brea shot Rek’yr a look that made him think she wasn’t talking about the fish. 

“Brea!” Tavra admonished her sister, eyes widening in surprise. “What’s gotten into you?” The youngest princess had no answer, shrugging and returning her gaze to her plate. The rest of the meal continued in a terse silence that made Rek’yr debate the logistics of throwing himself from the room into the snowy gardens below at least seven times. 

…..

“Just – just what in the – how in the world –“ Seethi sputtered, pacing around her room. Rek’yr slouched on the plush sofa near her bed. “What in the name of every sun was that!?” She couldn’t hide her desperation. Under the layers of tattoos and paint and jewels dripping from her clothes, there was a panic pulsating throughout the room. He’d never seen his maudra like this. 

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” Rek’yr fixed his eyes at the window and watched as thick white flakes began to flutter down. “Princess Brea was entirely unreceptive to any attempt that I made to –“ 

“You cannot tell me that was you trying!” Seethi whipped around to face him properly, a string of pearls flying off her wrist and onto the floor; she made not move to retrieve it. “You cannot tell me, with all the honesty in your soul, that was you making an attempt at her heart.” 

“She isn’t exactly warm to the idea, that much is clear.” Rek’yr tried to stave off the irritation rising in his tone. “The princess could barely look at me tonight.” 

Seethi took a deep breath, composing herself and gracefully pulling her fallen pearls back onto her wrist. She floated through the room like a cloud before settling next to Rek’yr, taking his bare hands in her gloved ones. He could feel every crevice of the dark blue lace that she wore, and the slight chill of the tiny gems woven into the thread. “Rek’yr,” she used one hand to tilt his chin up, forcing his posture back up with it, “you must try harder.” 

It took everything in him not to shrink away from her touch. Feeling his breath hitch in the cold, he couldn’t help but ask, “Why? You told me before that I needn’t worry about her heart, that she could fall in love with me later.” 

“Dear,” Rek’yr forced his face into neutrality at the new term of endearment, “the All-Maudra will be far more reluctant to allow this union if her daughter looks so loathe to participate in it.” Seethi moved her hand away from his face and he felt his breathing return to normal. “At least make her comfortable with the idea.” 

“Maudra, I don’t think that I have that in my power.” He pulled away, feigning the tone of a concerned child he’d heard so many times at the Wellspring. “It’s almost as if she wasn’t informed of the engagement, she’s so . . .” He couldn’t find the word to describe her mood that night. “I cannot make her comfortable with me, nor with our culture.” That seemed to be the polite way to phrase it. 

Seethi sucked in a breath; even she could see the distain for the Dousan whenever they walked into a room. But to not have informed the princess of her possible engagement? Surely not even the All-Maudra was so confident in her ability to circumvent this that Princess Brea was uninformed of the union. “I can arrange for you two to spend more time together.” She settled, biting the inside of her cheek. “It would do you both some good, given that the Vapran marriage will take place so soon.” This, Rek’yr had drilled into his mind on their way to Ha’rar. 

He had been told there would be two wedding ceremonies, one in Ha’rar and one at the Wellspring. In this way the two cultures would be respected, and the bride wouldn’t have to forgo any cultural processes that she’d most likely been expecting for the better part of her life and Rek’yr could still have the Dousan wedding he’d always dreamed of. While the Dousan didn’t have much information about Vapran weddings, he knew that it would most likely be done in private; even if Brea was just a third princess with no legitimate claim to the throne, marrying a Dousan would surely cause a stir in Vapran society that her family would want to control best they could. While there wasn’t an official date placed for the wedding in Ha’rar, Rek’yr was expected to present an official proposal to Brea within the week of their arrival. Even if the two were already engaged behind the scenes, it was still proper to put on a front. Rek’yr felt this step in the wedding process was ridiculous. If the two were going to marry no matter what, pretending that the whole affair was his idea weighed in his heart like a stone. 

“With all due respect Maudra,” he swallowed hard, his tongue feeling like a lump of wet sand, “I don’t think I can make her comfortable enough with me to deliver on the expected timeline.” 

Seethi reached for his hands again and he had to fight the urge to tense every muscle in his body. “I know you can, Rek’yr. You are the leader of my most important Xeric. You are the youngest gelfling to take such a position. You have proven to be the most useful young man in my clan.” Rek’yr wanted to believe her words, but something behind them seemed loaded with a threat he couldn’t quite piece together. “If anyone can make that simple, vapid little girl fall in love, it’s you.” 

…..

Brea fell face first on her bed, trying to suppress the scream in her pillows. “What in the name of the three moons was that!?” Mayrin’s footsteps thudded on the floor as she stormed into Brea’s rooms alongside Tavra and Seladon. “Are you trying to embarrass me?” 

“Mother,” Tavra began, but Seladon gave her a warning look that ended whatever Tavra wanted to say. 

“Now I can understand being apprehensive about this wedding, but you know just as well as I do that it is going to happen.” Brea shot up, barely concealing the sour expression she hurled at her mother. 

“But you said that we might have a way out of – “

“You aren’t an idiot Brea,” Seladon sighed as she sat at Brea’s vanity, checking her hair before facing her sister, “please don’t act like one.” 

That was enough to make the tears spill over her cheeks like tiny rivers. “You can’t make me do this!” She hiccupped, watching as her hands began to shake against her will. “Please! There has to be some way around this! I can’t marry him, he – he’s just so – “

“Handsome? Accomplished? Adopted into well standing as the Maudra’s only son? Honestly, you make it sound like we’re marrying you off to some fish monger.” Seladon huffed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Maudra, is there some way you could explain this to her?” 

Mayrin held in a heaving sigh, sitting on the edge of Brea’s bed and taking her daughter’s hands. Clearly, that wasn’t enough for Brea, as the princess threw her arms around her mother, sniffling all the way. The All-Maudra faltered; there was nothing more she wanted than to tell her daughter that the engagement would be delt with tomorrow and the Dousan delegation would be gone for the rest of her life. Mayrin’s hands were steady, as they’d been for decades now, as they gently pulled the pins out of Brea’s hair. “Now, child,” her voice was hushed, like she was calming a screaming baby in the throne room, “calm yourself.” Seladon rolled her eyes as Brea complied as best she could, refusing to budge from her mother’s embrace. “You know that I would make all of this disappear if I could.” Mayrin pulled out a final pin before pushing Brea off and cupping her cheeks. “I would move the entire world if it would make you girls happy,” her expression darkened, “but you know that I cannot do that. We are royalty before we are ourselves.” 

“You’re a princess before a daughter,” Seladon echoed. 

“That’s right.” Mayrin wiped some of the tears from Brea’s cheeks. “How many sacrifices do you think we have made for our people?” The question hung in the room like an axe about to come down on the women’s necks. “How often do you think I’ve lost time with you, with all of you, to be a maudra? How often have I put the people and their needs before ours?” No one spoke. Mayrin sighed, turning to face her oldest daughters, who listened intently. It wasn’t often their mother offered a lesson of her own, one that didn’t require a court tutor. “A good princess is the last of her people and the first to serve, one who ensures all her people fed before she feeds herself.” Seladon felt the callouses on her hands from the years of writing, the thinness in her waist that she couldn’t fill from all the meals she’d missed while studying her lessons and attending court, all the nights that Tavra had to bring dinner to her because she was too busy to leave the study. The corners of Seladon’s mouth turned up ever so slightly. Mayrin continued; “Someone who cannot sleep until she is sure that her people are safe, who would gladly lay her life down if it meant protecting even one of her people.” Tavra’s sore muscles became much more obvious to her as her mother continued. How many nights did she spend training and sparring? How many times did she turn her nose up at balls and dresses in favor of forcing more drills into her evenings? She could feel her heart swelling with pride. “Brea, you are a princess,” Mayrin cupped her cheeks one last time, kissing her forehead, “you were born into sacrifice.” With that, the All-Maudra rose from the bed and glided to the door. “Each of you was born into sacrifice,” she amended, “we all must act accordingly.” And with that, she was gone, leaving Brea with a new sense of hollowness boring a hole in her chest.


End file.
